


Moonlight Song

by fairyalchemist



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cinderella Elements, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, blacksmith erza, evil stepmother, evil stepsister, prince jellal fernandes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-08 02:10:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7739428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairyalchemist/pseuds/fairyalchemist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Synopsis: No one knows that Erza Scarlet is the best blacksmith in the kingdom of Evaneh. It is the best kept secret, her stepmother and her stepsisters are the only ones who know exactly what Erza really is. After completing her best blade thus far, Erza gets a visit from her mother’s spirit, who warns her that the kingdom is in danger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lunae Letum

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Progressive. Rating may change, who knows? There are magical elements, but may or may not be like FT canon. I love Cinderella and Jerza is an interesting relationship in FT. Hope you like this.

**LUNAE LETUM**

It was done.

Erza’s tired eyes could see only darkness through her window, it was well past midnight–she didn’t care–the excitement of a finished blade was better than sleep.

She took a deep breath and sighed, content that after a long and grueling process, the blade that she had lovingly nicknamed Lunae was finished—a bittersweet moment for her.

As she lightly touched the metal with her fingertips, her heart ached. She’ll be forced to give it away to sell. Nothing could stop her stepmother from doing so. Erza was, after all, the best blacksmith in Evaneh.

It had been the king’s decree that only nobility and those few who fought for the kingdom could wield swords made of exclusively Evaneh elements. Letum swords, the best of the these Evaneh swords, were a symbol of power, wealth and prestige. Steel didn’t stand a chance against these swords, they were rare and were made by only one blacksmith in all of Evaneh

Only the most privileged could afford these swords, yet no one really knew that a woman was the one who designed and made the legendary Letum blades with her own two hands.

It was a bitter irony, she did all this work but reaped none of the benefits. What a twist of fate.

Deciding to keep her thoughts out of that unpleasantness, Erza walked around her small hut as she tested the sword’s balance. Perfect.

Thoughts of who would use her beautiful sword in battle as she tested the blade’s worthiness came to mind.

Would it be some fat rich aristocrat with a tendency to flaunt his lot in life to everyone below him? Could it be a man who was hoping to curry the king’s favor to get a new title? Or would it be a brave knight who was secretly a woman trying to get revenge for the death of her husband in battle?

A light touch of the edge of the sword was enough to cut her finger, sharp enough to even cut through butter, nothing in the world could compare. She hoped the deaths this blade would see in its life would be honorable, not full of the taint of greed and rotten hearts.

She lifted the blade to let the flames of her furnace reflect. The metal was made of extremely valuable moonrock –a dark mineral stone only found in the depths of the Septelum—which gave the blade a midnight blue tint with small sprinkles of silver that made it look like the night sky.

Lunae, the sword’s name was quite apropos, she thought as she studied the hilt that had taken hours to perfect. A pair of silver wolves, one at each end called to their mistress, the brilliant full moon.

Erza smiled as the soft click of the hilt let her know the sword was safe in its scabbard. While admiring the result, she couldn’t help but think that this blade was her best work, the person who will use it didn’t deserve such beauty.

After cleaning her workspace, Erza made her way to her small bedroom, the twinkling of the stars in the sky had her thinking of the places she would like to explore in the kingdom.

When she had time… when she could save enough to…

**_THE WARNING_ **

_In the mist of her dreams, Erza found herself in an unknown forest, similar to the one where she like to visit but not as warm or welcoming. It was dark and the fog felt almost like a thick blanket that was trying to keep her from moving forward, stifling and cold. She rubbed her arms, unsure of herself, wary of what might appear from the woods ahead._

_She blew out a breath, the trail almost a hypnotizing sight. The mist cleared and the form of a woman appeared._

_“Are you happy, child?” The woman asked from afar and as her profile came into focus, Erza could see it looked like her mother._

_“I don’t know.” Erza looked at her hands, calloused and rough, the complete opposite of what a lady’s hands were supposed to be._

_“I’m sorry I left you, dear. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to see you grow up,” her mother said as she approached, extending her hand to her daughter._

_Erza hesitated as she looked up at her mother, feeling small and helpless, like a child that is trying to figure out the answer their parent wants to hear._ “ _Mom…” She tried to push the feelings inside of her down. She didn’t want to know what they were, didn’t want to know the ugliness of the truth. “Don’t worry about me,” trying to calm her mother’s worries, she tried to distract them both. “Where is this?”_

_They both looked around as the forest came alive. A gust of wind forced the leaves to dance in the air, the fog looked like clouds around them. “It’s the place where the dead can speak to the living. Your heart called to me and I needed to see you. I have to tell you something important. The kingdom is in trouble, dear.”_

_The direness of the situation didn’t register in Erza’s mind. She hadn’t seen her mother in so long, it hurt to know this was only a dream. “Is heaven a nice place? Is dad okay?”_

_“He’s fine dear,” her mother reassured her as she hugged Erza, “he told me that you shouldn’t worry about him and that he hopes Helda is taking good care of you.”_

_A strange sensation coursed through Erza as her mother suddenly let go. Something or someone was pulling her back._

_“Erza!” Her mother yelled as the distance between them grew and grew. “The prince is in…”_

_Her mother's words were lost as Erza opened her eyes to find herself back in her bed. The familiar sounds and smells of her small cottage registered as a tear ran down the side of her cheek._

_It had only been a dream._


	2. GRAND CHARIOT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jellal Fernandes, the only prince in Evaneh has had enough of his father’s ridiculous foreign policies and schemes. How can he not see their kingdom is in trouble? As his father threatens to marry him off to protect the kingdom, Jellal adamantly refuses and decides to take things into his own hands. He then prepares for the inevitable war his too trusting father is too ignorant to foresee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is Jellal's POV.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I really appreciate it (:
> 
> I'm on tumblr with the same username and I post my stuff there as well. Hope you all have a good day!

**JELLAL**

“I will not support your attempts at sabotaging this treaty, Jellal!” King Abbas Fernandes of Evaneh laid on his bed as his son paced around his chambers, irritation was evident in the prince’s face from his father’s sudden outburst.

They had been arguing about the technicalities of this new treaty since dawn and it was already past midnight. Jellal rubbed his face as he grew frustrated at what he thought was his father’s greatest political blunder to date. It was a miracle that their kingdom was still standing. The treaty had been signed not a month ago and Jellal was growing impatient at his father’s lack of understanding or action for that matter. 

“But father, it’s obvious they only want to weaken our trading power and reap all the benefits, leaving us behind to scramble. It’s ridiculous!” Why couldn’t his father see that Fiore was looking to weaken their navy through socius aqua, or joint sea jurisdiction? If Fiore claimed their waters in a secret attack, all of their important ports would be worthless in value, no one would be able to, or want to trade with them by sea.

“No,” Kind Abbas replied, “it’s the prudent thing to do. We’re still not strong enough to protect ourselves from an outright attack. The least we can do is make sure that they see us as their allies. Fiore is strong enough to protect us if we ever need their help. We have  Edolas at our backs, threatening to start a war on our borders. Besides, Fiore promised me they wouldn’t attack. Don’t be ridiculous, son. We need to make sure Fiore sees us as their friends.” 

“How the hell will we do that?” Jellal’s asked without thinking, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what schemes his father was thinking about now. “Oh no…” Realization dawned on him and he put his hands up as if to protect himself from an actual physical attack. He would rather be punched than hear what he knew his father was going to say. “Hell no!” Was his father truly willing to sell him to the highest bidder, like a whore in a whorehouse?

“Hidfar has advised me on this, and I agree that…”

“No.” Boiling anger coursed through Jellal’s body, he was afraid of what he could do in this state. He counted to ten in his head to calm himself.

“You’re of age… twenty is older than I was when I…”

“No father, I will not be your bloody easy way out!” Jellal’s voice resonated across the bedroom. He didn’t care if the whole fucking castle heard him, this conversation had just ventured into extremely undesired territory.

“You have to marry, Jellal!” His father shouted back. “It’s high time you do! I will not be here forever and you cannot rule without a queen. You must marry!”

“I’m not going to marry one of your puppets…father.” He spit the last word, bitterness clouded his vision. Baffled at the way his father used others to fix his problems, he stood his ground. “I will not marry anyone as a political favor. Not a bloody princess from Fiore nor one from Edolas. I’ll marry when I want to, who I want to, not because you tell me! I’m not your property to sell to who you want when you want…”

King Abbas got up from his bed, his old age was becoming apparent as his joints stiffened from the effort it took to stand. “Jellal! Your mother would’ve wanted you to have a wife and children by now…”

For the first time in a long time, Jellal looked at his father, _really_ looked at the man’s face and profile. He looked older than Jellal had ever seen him, the stresses of ruling were evident in his face. Was this what ruling do to him as well, when his time came to hold his people’s fates in his fingertips? 

“Don’t play that card with me old man. I’m not a child anymore,” Jellal said, sarcasm cut his voice, like shards of glass in water. If you’re not going to listen to me, then fine.” He made his way to the door, ignoring his father’s pleas to stay so they could discuss this matter further. His head pounded from the stress, he needed to sleep and think things through. “I’ll fix this myself,” he said, “but I warned you. And if I turn out to be right, I won’t hesitate to fight with my soldiers. Curse your stupid advisors and their ridiculous ideas. I won’t let them destroy this kingdom. Not while I breathe…” He left the king’s chambers, ignoring his father’s shouts, and thought of what his next steps would be for the inevitable war ahead. He knew the kingdom needed to gain strength, the only question that remained: how?

That night, his dreams had given him the answer in the form of a skilled blacksmith whose face he couldn’t define. He had created the most beautiful sword that sparkled in the light, like the stars were saying hello in its blade. Jellal could see the blacksmith was skilled, no doubt, as he checked for its dimensions, the blade clearly became an extension of him.

Morning came, and with it, Jellal had plotted his course. His portion of their army was low in men, but its skill were unprecedented. After all, in war, numbers weren’t always the most important aspect of an army. Heart and skill were part of it as well, and his soldiers had an abundance of them. 

After waking, Jellal tried to focus on the blacksmith’s features. For the life of him, he couldn’t bring the person’s face to mind. His brief dream had been vague, sure, but the answer had been clear. He would find a way to make Letum swords en masse, his small army would be unstoppable and Fiore and Edolas would dare to think twice about threatening him. Their steel would be no match for his wrath.

“What shall we do now?” Ultear, his most trusted advisor stood by the door, as the prince readied himself in his chambers. Defying all princely traditions, Jellal had forgone a valet and clothed himself. Being helpless, even to dress oneself was absolutely out of the question. Prince, or no. To rely on others for the simplest tasks was ridiculous and unnecessary. “Shall I ready the ship for you?”

Jellal had warned Ultear of King Abbas’s willful ignorance to the direness of situation just before he had gone to speak to him. “Yes, well, we will have to leave for a while so I can see Fiore’s navy for myself. But first, I need you to find the makers of those Letum swords.” He grabbed his boots from beside his bed and started lacing them. “Send them to my blacksmiths and let them know that I sanction any move they plan to make to reach my goal. We need to mass produce them, which may prove to be difficult, but I’m sure they’ll find a way.”

“Of course, I’ll get to it right away. It’ll take time to find all the Letum makers, as I’m sure you know, Jellal.” Ultear was the only one he allowed to call him by name, no one else was trusted at his back. She was the best swordsman he knew, possibly better than he was. He needed to practice his own swordsmanship for what was to come, he thought.

This could either be a short and sweet war or a long and brutal one. The former was what Jellal aimed for, for all their sakes.

“Find them as soon as possible, Ultear. We need them more than they know.”

“Okay.” Ultear grabbed a small notebook from her briefs and began writing notes. “I’ll meet you at the ship when I let my men know what we have planned. Oh, I almost forgot. Your sword just came in last night. It’s a beauty and I’m jealous…” Ultear wagged her eyebrows at Jellal as she tossed the sword she had been carrying on her hip.

Jellal smiled at his friend’s attempt at humor. He had almost forgotten he had told her to order a new sword some time ago. Was it already finished? Impressive.

Jellal caught the sword with ease and hesitated for a moment as he examined the weapon’s hilt, two glorious wolves howled at him. Had it been the same sword from his dream? He unsheathed the blade and held it in the light, awed at its beauty. “Who made this?” He asked Ultear, his voice held a hint of uneasiness.

“I’m not…” Ultear rifled through her small notebook for the answer but found none, “sure…I’ll make sure I get someone on it as well.”

“Thank you. Now let’s go, this war needs to end before it begins.”

A few hours later, after Jellal had made all the preparations for his indefinite absence, he boarded his ship, the Grand Chariot. It was the fastest ship in their navy, possibly the world. They would be in Fiore before long and Jellal would speak to their king himself if he had to. He was sure they wouldn’t make it the entire way, a feeling inside him told him that the navy had already sailed to attack their ports. 

As they sailed to east, the kingdom he had been born to rule someday became a small dot in the distance and he couldn’t help but worry what the future held.

He had willingly defied his father, or more importantly, his father’s twisted and idiotic advisors. It felt like marriage was always the answer when the kingdom’s troubles were looming over their heads. He thought of the past and how his recent betrothal hadn’t boded well for him or his promised bride. He wouldn’t put another person through that again.

He sighed as he looked to the open sea, it was about midday and he could see the cerulean waters reflect the sun in a hypnotizing dance. 

Jellal breathed deeply as he looked at the water below, the saltiness in the air and the sprinkles from the crashing waves on his face comforted him. But even with the expanse of almost infinite open water before him, he couldn’t’ help but think he was sailing to his death and yet, the thought was not as frightening as he wished it would be.


	3. Dungeon of Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that war has begun between Evaneh and Fiore, Erza is taken by the prince's men as her stepmother reveals her true identity as a blacksmith. As unknown time passes, she goes through an extremely difficult time, to the point that she does the unthinkable. Once her savior arrives, uncertainty hangs over their heads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter is very dark and sad. I had to listen to pop songs to get me through this (really). Hope you stick around to see what Prince Jellal is up to. Thanks for reading this far (:
> 
> Trigger Warning: Physical Abuse, incarceration, suicide, suicide ideation.

**Fiore War Year 0**

They came in the darkness of the night, royal cloaks on their backs, swords hidden somewhere on their sides. Her stepmother had invited them into Erza’s small hut and Erza didn’t know what to think.

“Who are these people?” She asked, her mind was still too groggy to think clearly. “Helda?”

Erza rubbed her eyes as she heard her stepsister’s shouts ring around the main house, her small hut behind was a distance away, she wondered what had made them so hysterical.

Through the open door, she could see the sky outside was just beginning to light up, it was going to be a beautiful sunrise.

A memory of her childhood suddenly came to mind as she realized that her future was uncertain.

_‘I’ll be benevolent this once.’ Helda had told a young Erza, right after her father had passed away. ‘You’ll live there’, she pointed at the small dilapidated shed behind the house. ‘And you’ll have your own little house, isn’t that better?’_

_Erza, oblivious to her stepmother’s true intentions, had been glad that her stepmother had taken such care of her._

_“Now don’t forget, you still have to make the swords like your daddy did, but we don’t have enough money for a maid.” Helda looked at Erza as if expecting her to say something. “Here’s your uniform, don’t forget I’m the one paying for your food, now you have to earn what’s on your plate, like the rest of us.”_

Her stepmother looked around the small place Erza called home. “They’re here for you,” Helda answered curtly--her voice like shards of glass tinted with unrepressed hate--still unwilling to look at her stepdaughter in the eyes.

“Why?” Erza calmly asked, belying her inner turmoil.

“Because they know who you are, I told them, you know. I’m tired of seeing you and your disgusting face. They gave me more gold than you’d ever be able to produce and who was I to say no to the prince’s men?”

“What?” Erza’s voice cracked as one of the men grabbed her by her arm, she was still in her flimsy nightclothes; they wouldn’t give her time to change.

Another man grabbed her other arm and they dragged her outside her home, tears began stinging her eyes as her mother’s face came to mind and she realized it would be the last time she’d see her home again.

“Make a move to flee and you won’t be seeing tomorrow,” one of the men holding her put a blade to her back and she stiffened at the pressure. “Good girl.”

They put something over her head and wrapped her arms with a rope behind her. It was difficult to see as they dragged her to a cart of some kind. She wanted to scream for help but resigned herself to silence; Helda had said they were the prince’s men, no one would be willing to go against the royal crown.

Before the cart began to move, Erza heard a thud and as she felt the beginnings of a trail of blood on her hair, darkness overcame her.

***    ***    ***

Time was impossible to tell in the dungeon they had taken her to. No sunlight shone through, it smelled like shit despite the fact that she was the only one in the forsaken place. Gray stones were her only audience, bars on the doors kept her from escaping. Drops of water from the rain would sometimes seep through the cracks, making it damp and cold and unbearable.  

When they had shown her the door to the smelter outside enclosed by a wall, the quality of the smelter was lost to her as the only thing she cared about at the moment was the gust of fresh air on her skin.

Time had passed but she didn’t know how long she had been locked up nor did she really want to know. In the beginning, the only way she knew a month would pass would be by her monthly cycle. She had finished counting long ago, resigned to her fate to creating swords for the mysterious men who came to check on her once in a while.

After a while she had refused to eat or to make anything with her two hands. She would frantically ask the guards to answer her questions. _Who had put her here? What were their true intentions? Would she ever be released?_

They had ignored her, some would beat her for her ‘impudence’ telling her she was a peasant after all, less than a peasant, dirt, lowest of the low.

When one of them had taken her eye with his fist, she had broken inside. Great sobs of resignation had broken forth from her, she stopped asking anything and continued making the swords without thinking of anything else.

Having the skills to make these weapons was her greatest gift and her ultimate curse. She cursed her father for leaving her, for giving her the skills to create murderers, not saviors.

Once, out of desperation she had been tempted to cut her wrists, to end her suffering. As her blood seeped through, she felt relief once the unknown had claimed her, only to feel excruciating pain as she was brought back. She knew it had been her mother who had put her back in this hell. The betrayal had stung. Her mother had told her something about saving the prince, but she didn’t care for it. For all she knew, the crown was just a tool for cruelty and didn’t deserve to be saved.

Deciding to bide her time for a means of escape, Erza kept working, but the quality of her swords declined as her soul protested.

The swords she made lost their magic, they became ugly and disgusting in her eyes. Her hands made the hilts without giving a second thought to them.

Wolves and celestial deities became demons and death. Colors changed from silvery stars in the midnight sky to blood red swirls in bubbly tar. Darkness enveloped her heart as she did what she was told, but one thing remained the same, the sharpness of the blades-- a testament that she’d get revenge for what her life had become. Harsh and cold.

***   ***   ***

**Fiore War Year 2**

“Where is the Letum sword maker?” A voice rang around the halls and Erza crouched in the corner of her cell. She crawls to hide herself outside the door to the smelter. It had sounded like a woman’s voice, but she couldn’t be sure.

“Did you say the prince’s magicians found a way to make the swords by the dozens earlier?” A man’s voice could be heard as well.

"We don’t need the blacksmith anymore..." The woman replies and suddenly gasps. “Oh dear gods! Is this the way you treat the prince’s most treasured blacksmith?”

“You didn’t tell me exactly how not to treat the blacksmith, Ultear. What? Do you think she would have come gladly, without a protest? Peasants are animals, they don’t deserve my respect.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? You were born to peasants, Zancrow, you have no right to do this shit.”

Zancrow charged at the woman but was too slow as she pulled her sword, as fast as lightning, to his chest.

“By the prince’s magnanimous mercy, I’ll tell you this. You’re fucking fired from being his advisor and your lands and titles are forfeit for betraying this girl and the prince’s trust.” She raised the tip of her blade to the man’s chin. “Now, aren’t you glad he isn’t here to stop me from cutting your head off? Though, I think he’d probably want to do it himself.”

Ultear motioned to the guard by the door. “You, open this door, now!” The guard didn’t hesitate to obey as Zancrow ran away, visibly shaken and scared that Ultear would kill actually him.

As her savior slowly moved inside her prison cell Erza’s feet stood in place, unsure if this was a trick or not.

“Hi, Erza?” Ultear lifted her arms as she held a cloak up with one hand as she neared where Erza stood. “Here, I brought this for you.”

Erza grabbed the cloak, it felt like water on her rough skin, and she cried at what this small gesture meant.

“You’re free.” Ultear confirmed what Erza had been wanting to hear. _How could it be so simple?_

Erza’s sobbed from the depths of her heart, her soul.

_This must be a dream._

She looked up, tears streaking down her face, and screamed as loud as her lungs and her voice could bear.

*** *** ***

When Ultear saw Erza’s face, she vomited as she saw the extent of abuse Zancor had subjected her to without their knowledge. Erza’s eye had been brutally taken from her, she looked like she had been starved and was covered with dirt from head to toe.

She couldn’t’ believe this has all happened under her nose. It was her greatest failure as Jellal’s friend, as his right hand. She had failed him, failed herself and failed Erza.

Ultear cringed as she recalled the last time Prince Jellal had lost himself on the battlefield. It had been two years of brutal war with Fiore and he had become a different man. A hollow projection of what he had once been, unpredictable and unstable.

War, blood and death had claimed his soul, and Ultear had no idea how to make him return to the land of the living.

Knowing she had to tell him about Erza the blacksmith, she made plans to get her as far away from the castle as she could. There was no way of knowing what he would do to himself or to those responsible in this situation.  

But Ultear was certain of one thing, the prince would be furious when he found out about this and she wasn’t sure if she could save herself for her stupidity.

 


	4. Nolia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Jellal finds about a slave city called Nolia, where his people are sent to be sold. As the war nears its end, he tasks himself with freeing the slaves there. He gets four of his best men to help him overturn the ones in control of the city. Everything goes to plan until it doesn't and he has to find a way to escape.

“Uncle Jellal—“

“What is it, Meredy?” Jellal looked at his ship’s captain and Ultear’s adopted daughter. He had known her since she was a child and held her to the highest esteem. The girl was in her teens now, but her age belied her expertise with anything that sailed the seas. He had become her uncle, of sorts, in that time.

“We’ll be reaching the slave town by sunset. Are you sure you want to do this?”

She was always concerned for him and Jellal felt that he needed to ease her worries. “Yes, but we’ll have to take only a few men to infiltrate it.

Two years had passed by like the blink of an eye, Jellal was at a loss what to do now that he felt the whispers of his country’s victory. He had overestimated his ability to fight Fiore, they had acquired magical weapons, more advanced than Evaneh’s. They had cut his army drastically, he didn’t know who had showed  

After realizing that Jellal had started a war that they must fight to the end, his father had hastily relented to fight. Jellal had been right, and his father had realized it early enough to help Jellal out. Sure, the king’s support had been important, but the lives of his men--every single one that they'd lost-- were not enough to give Jellal a drop of solace that their souls had been worth the cost.

He didn’t know what to do now, what to tell his soldiers as he would see their faces before battle; stares full of anger, hate, lust for blood and victory, and desolation all in one. But even within those stares, he knew their hearts had hope that they would return home soon enough.

His memories flashed to the day he knew he’d resigned himself to shoulder the burden of his men. He hadn’t known what to tell Ultear then, as she screamed at him one day as his frustrations had overwhelmed him. Nor had he known what to tell her when he tattooed an emblem on his face, a testament to his fuck ups and solidarity for his men.

Tattoos, a taboo in their kingdom, the ultimate mutilation of one’s body. Unhesitant, he had promised to bear the mark without shame. The ink of his cheek was red for blood and a promise that he would see this through to the end.

He looked to the open sea and saw nothing but darkness under the new moon. Gusts of wind blew through his hair, icy and chilling as the sound of waves crashed on the hull below them. His Grand Chariot had been traveling the waters for months now, destroying any enemy on the way.  But in that time, the whispers of a slave city where Fiore kept its prisoners of war had somehow made their way to Jellal. He had been furious at the discovery, his own army never dared to treat Fiore’s own as animals, let alone slaves. Fighting as equals had been his philosophy in anything, but something in him had changed since then-- an unknown trickle of something dark and disturbing had burrowed inside him as he had decided to save the slaves and butcher the people of the city. Maybe it would give the message to Fiore that he was no one to fuck with. They obviously needed a lesson… he’d gladly teach them—

“We’re close,” Meredy whispered to him, letting him know that he needed to prepare his men. There would be five in total, a scout would go and look for more intel while the others would wait, then they’d make their move in the darkness. They’d figured the layout from the men they’d interrogated, Nolia wasn’t a bit city at first glance, but inside it was the biggest hidden slave trade city in the barrier between the two kingdoms. Jellal was stunned that such a place could exist right under his nose, it was unforgivable.

Not long after reaching a hidden piece of coastline, Jellal and his four men silently lowered themselves to the sand. Their ship would wait in the water for their signal once they finished. Jet left the group first to accomplish his task as the rest of them waited in silence. The four left behind sat in a circle as they ran the plan through their head, Jet was taking longer than expected as Angel, Midnight, and Eric played with their weapons.

“Do you think he got caught?” Angel asked, apprehension in her voice, as she nervously played with her porcelain hair. “I’m getting worried…”

“You’re such a big worrier, Angel…” Eric angled his face to the side, “I can hear him, he’ll be fi--”

“You sure about that?” Midnight cut him off, the blacks of his eyes found a way to absorb the little light that was around them. He chuckled, “You’re both idiots…”

Angel pouted and Eric laughed while Midnight scowled at them before joining in their laughter.

“Enough--” Jellal interrupted them, unable to join in their nonchalance, they were his best and he cared about them, but they sure knew how to irritate him. “I need to think…” He frowned as he looked to where Jet had disappeared off to. He was taking too long and he felt uneasy…

Angel stuck her tongue out at him as the other two talked to each other in whispers. Suddenly, Jet’s silhouette appeared in the distance, and they all sighed in relief.

“Hey… dumb…asses,” Jet puffed as he leaned his hands on his knees. “Prince,” he faced Jellal, “I… found… the… tunnel… entrance… where they… said it would be…”

“Good,” Jellal stood as he took charge of his men. “Angel, you’re with me. Midnight, Eric you go incapacitate the guards. I need you to do it  _silently_ … do you hear?”

Midnight, was tasked with the south of the city, tasked with killing the merchant aristos in that area.

Eric was going North, killing the wranglers, or the ones who went out and caught all the slaves.

Jellal and Angel were tasked with the aristos in the main government.

“Perfectly,” Eric mumbled as Midnight nodded. 

“Jet,” Jellal face his scout, “You’ll stay here.”

“Yes, sir!”

He caressed his sword, willing it giving him strength. “Now, let’s go!” He men left the base and headed out and Jellal had a feeling that he’d forgotten something important…

 

*** *** ***

Jellal and Angel entered the dingy tunnel that led to the city’s main center, the place where the important people of Nolia lived.  

The entrance, situated near some cliffs, bordered the city. Meant as a secret escape, the tunnel appeared empty, it was probably only used in emergencies by the city’s mayor and important diplomats. Jellal felt bloodlust as he inched closer to the other side, he smiled at the thought of having the mayor under his hands.

“Jellal,” Angel lightly touched his shoulder behind him, stopping him in his tracks. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” he whispered, the darkness a shroud around them. “Don’t worry about me… there are more important things to worry about--”

He pushed forward and she followed, the dust shifted around them, making their eyes itch as rust and damp earth scents surrounded them.

Once they reached the end, they paused, waiting for signs of life on the other side. “It’s clear,” Angel whispered as she entered the building. The door locked from inside and Jellal put a rock by corner, stopping it from entirely closing on them. They might need it to escape, but he hoped that it didn’t come to that.

The pair sneaked around, assassinating the aristos in the dark, making their way to the most important aristo of all, Mayor Rahven.  A few unconscious guards later, they found him-- a fat poor excuse of a human who lay in his bed, oblivious to the fact he was about to die.

“Close the door, Angel and leave us.”

She complied and Jellal neared the immense golden four poster bed with silver engraved drapery. Revulsion bubbled up inside him and his spine tingled with anticipation at what came next.  _Kill him…_  a sinister voice in his head whispered, then roared to the beat of the drumming of his heart.  _Kill him…_ thump… _kill him…_ thump… _why don’t you have a little fun first?_

He grabbed a piece of cloth from a dresser by the bed and shoved it into the man’s mouth, startling him awake. “Shh… shh…, you don’t want to lose something important so soon into our conversation, do you?” Jellal shoved his elbow to choke him, restricting his breathing. He sputtered and coughed into the cloth as Jellal grabbed the small dagger from his boot.

“Do you know who I am?” His steel voice echoed in the large bedroom and he pressed the tip of the blade on the man’s throat. “I know who you are, you son a bitch.”

“Grrggg,” the man tried to wrangle himself away but his strength was nothing compared to Jellal’s. Years of battle had honed his muscles, he was stronger than he’d ever been.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled, his dagger’s blade made it way down to his shoulders and he cut a thin line the skin. He added pressure and shoved the blade into his skin.

 “Aaaaah!” The mayor screamed, and Jellal chuckled as he punched the man’s teeth, the crunching sounds satisfied him.

“Thought you could have my people and make them slaves, did you?” He pierced the man’s leg and blood coated his hand.  _Do it, c’mon. Kill him!_

Suddenly, Angel interrupted their conversation and opened the door. “Sir! We’ve got company! Looks like they caught on…”

Jellal turned to join Angel but something stabbed his side and he froze. He’d taken his eyes off the mayor for a second, a mistake on his part-- he realized-- as he stumbled around, he lowered his hand and lifted it, blood coated his fingers.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” Jellal screamed in fury as he grabbed his sword, releasing it from its scabbard, the blade shone as the light from the window came down upon it. The feel of the wolves on his wrist calmed him as he sliced the man’s throat, spurts of blood sputtered on them both as the dying man reached for Jellal.

Without hesitation, Jellal rushed to help Angel, but was caught unaware by the sudden dizziness and fell to his knees. He forced himself to stand.

“Angel, go! I’ll deal with them!” His vision blurred but he disregarded it, he’d suffered worse than this in the past. “GO! Dammit! That’s an order! Go to Midnight!”

She hesitated before leaving, he didn’t want her to fight the men he’d seen were the army’s elite.

His breathing shallowed.

He limped toward the men Angel hadn’t had time to incapacitate. They weren’t here for the guards, they’d been aiming for the powerful, the aristos that were in charge of the operations of the city. He’d told them to kill only if necessary, but it seems like that would be the case anyway with these guards. He guessed they were slaves too, or had been slaves in the past. It was a shame, he thought, as he prepared for their attack.   

If everyone completed their jobs, they would create a power vacuum that would potentially destroy the slave trade in Nolia. Jellal and his men just had to kill the leaders, the ones who kept the cycle going.

His thought strayed to nothing and then returned. “Nnn,” he cringed as the pain coursed through him like flames of cold fire.  _You’ve been poisoned._  Shit! He looked at the men in front of him. They looked terrified as they looked at him. “I don’t wanna do this…”

They yelled as they charged at him. It looked like twenty men, but he couldn’t be sure, his head felt heavy as he tried to focus. One of the guards closest to Jellal snarled. “You’re a dead man!”

Jellal winced, “I’ll have to make this fast,” he mumbled as they aimed their weapons at him. He forced the pain from his mind, focusing on the task at hand. He just had to survive long enough for Eric to get to him. With his surreal hearing, he knew Eric go to Jellal as soon as he’d heard their plans were fucked. Jellal had forced Angel to leave, that was the signal they had agreed upon for aborting the mission. But even so, it was his only chance to escape, Jellal knew his odds were slim.

Gathering strength from his blade, he gracefully danced around his opponents, piercing them with all he could muster. His vision blurred even more as his heartbeats increased, the pulsing of his poisoned blood throbbed in his head and he stumbled, giving his enemies an opening. They cut his shoulder and he cursed. “Shit,” deciding to escape, he ran through the men, careful not to let them get a shot at him, and jumped off the window. They were on the fifth story and he hoped he’d survive. Feeling soft hay on his back, he sighed as his dizzying vision righted itself. He closed his eyes as the heaviness of the poison consumed him and the last thing Jellal remembered were the screams of women and shouts of men as guards came for him.


End file.
